


Ways and Means

by rillrill



Series: Insurance [2]
Category: Veep
Genre: Blow Jobs, Hand Jobs, Hate Sex, M/M, Verbal Humiliation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-18
Updated: 2015-04-18
Packaged: 2018-03-23 12:57:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,565
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3769348
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rillrill/pseuds/rillrill
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>He vaguely remembers that the rule with vampires is that they can't come in unless you invite them. He guesses that doesn't apply to whatever kind of daywalking nightmare creature Jonah ostensibly evolved from. </i>
</p><p> </p><p>(Set during 3x05.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Ways and Means

Dan's just settling into his room in Maddox's place. Laptop on the bed, chargers for both phones in two different outlets. He's in his boxers and t-shirt when there's a knock at the door, and instinctively groans before opening it just a crack.

It's Jonah. Because of-fucking-course it is.

“No,” he says preemptively, before Jonah can even get a word out. “Fuck off.”

“Look, you—” Jonah starts to say, but Dan cuts him off again.

“You had your chance earlier,” he says, letting the door slide open a couple more inches as Jonah begins to push his way inside. “You don't get to come crawling back on your own terms.”

Jonah laughs, harsh and mocking. “I'm not gonna be the one who's crawling,” he says, waving his phone in one hand as he gets the other on the door and pushes hard. Dan takes a step back, and that's it. He vaguely remembers that the rule with vampires is that they can't come in unless you invite them. He guesses that doesn't apply to whatever kind of daywalking nightmare creature Jonah ostensibly evolved from. 

When Jonah's all the way in the room, he leans back on the door, letting it click shut. Dan folds his arms defensively across his chest, feeling shorter and underdressed next to Jonah, who's still in his tacky three-piece suit. “I don't know what you think you're going to accomplish,” Dan says. He holds his ground as Jonah gives him a contemptuous look. “Consider yourself persona non grata on our team. Fuck the fuck off and carry my bags, bitch.” 

“Yeah? Well, you can tell Selina that POTUS never even wanted her as his running mate,” Jonah scoffs. “Speaking of persona non grata, that is.”

“You can tell her that yourself,” Dan sneers. “If you have the balls, I mean.”

At that, Jonah takes a few steps closer, closing almost all the distance between them in just a couple strides. “I've got the fucking balls,” he leers, practically breathing down Dan's neck. “I'm not like you, Dan.”

“Yeah? Fuck's that supposed to mean?”

“It means you're a neutered fucking cyborg,” Jonah spits. “You do exactly what you're told, you let other people program you, and the funny thing is that you think you're in control – you're not.” Dan can feel an angry rush of blood hit his brain as Jonah continues: “At least I have some fucking free will. A mind of my own. You probably saw 'Her' and went home and tried to fuck Siri. You thought that shit was _aspirational_.”

“That – that makes zero fucking sense,” Dan says. He can feel his short, clipped nails digging into his palms and knows his knuckles must be pure white from the anger he's holding back. “I'm not the one who’d _ever_ have to resort to phone sex with artificial intelligence, for one thing – ”

“When was the last time you fucked anyone because you actually wanted to?” Jonah says. His tone's a challenge, but not the kind Dan's used to. “Admit it. You can only get a hard-on if you think there's a job opportunity in it for you. At least people fuck me because they like me –”

“You can keep saying that, it doesn't make it true," Dan spits back. “Nobody fucking likes you. You're a fucking laughingstock –”

“Yeah?” Jonah says. He should be tense, he should be shouting, but to Dan's eyes he looks incredibly relaxed, leaning slightly forward with hands on his hips. “How many of POTUS's staffers have you disappointed in bed? Everyone just assumes that's why you're not getting promoted, you know. Selina’s gonna lose and you’ll fade into obscurity behind her and everyone in the West Wing with Maddox and me will know it’s because you didn’t give enough blowjobs.”

There's always a final straw between them, the line that ends the argument. This time, this is it. But Dan doesn't have anywhere to go, some place of his own to which he can storm off. Jonah's already there, and he's out of his element. And in that moment, there's only one thing going through his head: _How fucking dare he_?

Because really: How dare he? This fucking smokestack of failure is lecturing him on sincerity? On _sex_? Through the haze of his anger, Dan can read something else underneath Jonah’s tone, though. There’s something else there, like he’s goading him, pushing until he pushes back.

So Dan pushes back.

Jonah’s still wearing his tie, which makes it easy for Dan to reach out and yank him down to his level, eye to eye in the lamp-lit guest room. With one hand wrapped around the cheap polyester, he grabs at Jonah’s hair with the other, yanking at it with enough force to make him moan. It’s cut short and strangled, but Dan laughs anyway, because it’s confirmation enough.

“Is this what you wanted?” he asks. “Are you just jealous that out of everyone you think I fucked in the West Wing, you were never one of them?” Jonah’s breath is hot against his face even as he swallows audibly, loud enough that Dan can hear in the quiet of the room. Dan presses a little closer, his crotch against Jonah’s leg, Jonah’s against his hip, and as he calculatedly shifts his weight, he’s pretty sure he can feel Jonah starting to harden, his eyes narrowing at the pressure --

“Oh, _Jonad_ ,” he mutters, shifting again, tightening his grip on the tie in his hand. “All you had to do was ask.”

There’s another split second, and then it’s happening, they’re careening past the point of no return. Jonah’s kissing him with all the finesse of an assassin, but not even a career killer, more like one of those two dumbasses who tried to take out Gerald Ford. Dan wouldn’t expect any less. He bites down on Jonah’s lower lip, hard, and digs his fingers into his scalp, prompting another set of undignified gasps. 

Dan smirks as he releases Jonah’s lip. “Go ahead,” he adds. “Ask for it. Ask _nicely_.”

Jonah’s eyes narrow as he shakes his head. It’s a piss-poor attempt to shake Dan off, half-assed enough to indicate that he doesn’t really want him to let go. “Blow me,” he mutters.

 _Interesting word choice_. Dan cocks an eyebrow. “Is that what you want?” he asks, his voice low and steady, trying hard not to belie his arousal. He releases his grip on Jonah’s tie to palm the growing bulge in his pants, rubbing at it roughly through the trouser material. “I guess so, huh. You gonna ask me politely, or what?”

There’s a beat, a moment where Jonah’s internal struggle is clearly, desperately obvious. “Fuck,” he says after a second, his voice low and choked. “Yeah. Blow me.”

“Manners, Jonad,” Dan says, increasing the pressure as Jonah’s eyes slide briefly shut. “ _Manners_ —”

“Please!” He’s almost yelling, all desperate and shit. And Dan would be lying to himself if it didn’t turn him on – the thought of making Jonah shout loud enough for the entire fucking house to hear them, for everyone in the adjoining rooms, Selina and Maddox and the Secret Service and even Gary to know exactly what they’re up to. He knows he can do it, too. He knows what he’s capable of. 

It’s with this resolve that he smiles, carefully, showing just a hint of teeth, and nips at Jonah’s lower lip again as he goes in for another rough kiss. He releases the tie and slides both hands up to cup either side of Jonah’s jaw, pulling his face down to meet his own, possessive in the way Dan can sense he’ll like. He can feel Jonah’s wandering hands moving steadily downward, grappling with the hem of his t-shirt and the waist of his boxers, and he wants to pull back, remind him that this isn’t what he asked for –

“Please suck my cock,” Jonah moans again into his mouth. Dan’s hard by now, against his own goddamn will. He should be better than this, but having Jonah hot and pliable in his hands is making his anger and arousal crest in an unusual unison. He wants to fucking kill him, or maybe just fuck him, or maybe just put him in his fucking place.

Dan pulls away, looking down as he grabs for Jonah’s belt. Jonah’s erection is painfully apparent in his off-the-rack suit pants, pressing against Dan’s hip. The clanking of his belt buckle is much too loud in the quiet of the room. “Are you going to be quiet?” Dan asks, and Jonah nods. “Wrong answer,” Dan adds. “I want to hear how fucking desperate you are.”

The bed is right behind them, but, Dan thinks, Jonah doesn’t deserve the dignity of a bed. Instead, he pushes him back against the wall, shoulders to the plaster as Dan undoes Jonah’s pants and sinks to his knees with a practiced smirk.

There’s no teasing. No buildup. More things Jonah doesn’t deserve. Dan takes him into his mouth, tracing from base to tip with his tongue. Jonah lets out a hiss, and Dan glances up, making eye contact as he slides his tongue along the underside of Jonah’s cock. He can take almost all of him, and the “almost” isn’t a point of pride, but he’s bigger and thicker than Dan expected and it’s tripping him up, the head bumping against his throat as Jonah gasps and bucks against him.

Dan pulls away, replaces his mouth with his right hand, his left still digging nails into Jonah’s thigh. Jonah exhales, letting his head fall back against the wall with a thump. “Look at me,” Dan says sharply. “Don’t fucking look away.”

Jonah draws a ragged breath, forcing his eyes open. He’s never this obedient, this pliable. Dan dips his head back down and this time manages to take his entire length, pulling back off as soon as he sees Jonah’s eyes start to slide shut. An indelicate give and take, push and pull. It doesn't take him long to settle into a rhythm, focusing on Jonah's heaving breaths as proof positive that he's still got it, and smacking his hands away when one of them lands in his hair. _He doesn't get to control this,_ Dan thinks, pulling off long enough to shake his head and give Jonah a warning glare.

And then, for the second time in fifteen minutes, there’s a knock at the door.

“Dan?” It’s Selina’s voice. “I need a minute.”

Dan shoots Jonah another sharp look and rises. “I want you to stay right there, right like that,” he murmurs in Jonah’s ear. “Don’t even fucking think about touching yourself –”

“Dan?” Selina again. Dan rolls his eyes.

“I’ll be right there,” he calls, before turning back to Jonah, who’s breathing heavily with a vacant look on his face, lips parted dumbly as he takes in Dan’s instructions. “And if you make a fucking sound, I’ll gut you like a goddamn fish, you understand?”

Jonah nods. 

When Dan opens the door, he takes care to angle himself in a way that conveniently hides the half of the room where Jonah is, as well as the lower half of his body. “Sorry,” he apologizes instinctively. “I was on a phone call. Urgent.”

Selina frowns. “Not with anyone from the office?”

“Campaign donor,” he says quickly. “Private line, don’t worry.”

“Ah,” she says. “Good. You work your magic.”

“That’s what I’m here for,” Dan says. “You needed me?”

“Oh, yeah,” she says, sounding distracted. “No, I just wanted to know if you had the latest draft of my speech for that New Hampshire prayer breakfast –”

“It’s on a thumb drive back at the office,” Dan says. “I can have Mike forward it to you.”

“Good. You do that.” She makes a move as if to walk away, before adding, “By the way, have you seen Jonah?”

“Nope,” Dan says, not a beat too quickly. “I think he’s still crying in the pantry.”

“Yeah,” Selina says dismissively. “I’d like you to take another run at him before we leave tomorrow, though. Jeff Kane. Who the fuck knew?”

Dan shrugs. “I’ll give it my best.”

When he closes the door, he glances back at Jonah, still leaning against the wall. He looks thoroughly wrecked from here, his pants rumpled and pulled down to mid-thigh and his hairline starting to curl up with pinpricks of sweat. His cock is even harder than before, and he looks like he doesn’t know what to do with his hands to keep from touching himself.

In a few strides, Dan’s back to the wall, but this time he doesn’t bother to slide onto his knees. He presses closer to Jonah, one hand around his cock, the other sliding up to his throat, where he can feel a pulse fluttering beneath the skin. “Look at you,” he whispers. “You think you’re important? You really think having a powerful _uncle_ is enough to keep you employed? Answer me.”

“I have – I got this job on my own,” Jonah says, hips bucking against Dan’s fist. “People value me.”

“People don’t value shit about you,” Dan hisses. “Listen to me, Hepatitis J. You’re a replaceable piece of New Hampshire trash who thinks he’s special because his mommy got him into Dartmouth and his uncle got him a job in the White House. You can front like you’re some kind of power player, but,” he laughs derisively, “you’re never going to be anyone worth knowing. This fucking hand job is the closest you’ll ever come to real power, and look at you. You’re a pathetic, sweaty mess.”

Jonah lets out a low, guttural groan as Dan’s hand speeds up on his cock. “What’s that, Jonah?” he adds, noting the way Jonah’s chewing his bottom lip in what looks like evident agony. “You want to come?”

“Fuck you,” Jonah mutters, and Dan moves his hand from his throat to clap it over his mouth. 

“Beg for it,” he murmurs, stroking him quick and dirty in short strokes. “I want to hear you begging behind my hand.” 

And Jonah narrows his eyes and does, the words muffled by Dan’s palm but still very much audible, a string of “please” and “fuck” and “let me,” as Dan works him through his climax.

Dan wipes his hand off on Jonah’s pants. It’s close enough to his belt loops that his jacket will probably hide it, but he knows it’ll stain. Jonah doesn’t look like he has the strength to protest, though he gives him a dirty look anyway and mutters, “I’m gonna send you my dry-cleaning bill.”

“Give it to Maddox and maybe he’ll expense it,” Dan spits. “You happy now? Do you finally feel included?”

Jonah laughs, shakily but getting stronger as it goes on a beat too long. “You just proved my exact point. I’m the one who’s fucking desperate? You wanted to get down on your knees for me so badly, you didn’t even make me ask twice–”

“You said please.”

“I didn’t even have to ask twice.” Jonah repeats, smirks as he zips up, reaches out to palm Dan’s bulge with one wide hand. It lasts a split second and then he’s clapping Dan on the shoulder as he makes his way to the door. “Good talk, though. Really glad we had this chat.”

Dan doesn't exhale until the door slams shut.


End file.
